Post V-Day Post.

For Valentine's Day we intended to make a heart-shaped wheat crust pizza together from scratch, but we ended up having adventures instead. There was a visit to Goodwill and then a road trip to the skate shop in Conway and then a little hangout with Courtney and an intense search for rain boots, which failed. There was also coffee and a bunch of parakeets and music and Moe's. I forgot to wear my red and white ribbon in my hair.
Marvin gave me a mini-wedding cake.


Since we didn't have a "real" wedding, we missed out on the tasty cake and he decided it was about time to make up for lost dessert! Mmmm. He also got me a dozen cranberry macadamia nut cookies from Catherine's Cakes, which are the most delicious cookies in the world, but he accidentally ate eleven of them before I made it home from work. He told me about the accident sheepishly and I laughed. A lot.

I gave him a Frankenstein Danzig Kewpie doll that I found on Etsy.

Here are some of the treats I made in honor of a formerly hated holiday that I'm just beginning to enjoy:



Peanut butter fudge cupcakes...and celebrity valentines inspired by Elsie.

Here's a link to Class Class. I've already learned a thing or two.

Something of the stars.

We come from farther away than space and longer ago than time. Evolution and genetics and environment explain a lot about us but they don’t explain all about us or even the most important thing about us. Though we live in the world, we can never be entirely at home in the world. We have something of God within us the way we have something of the stars. .

I wonder if there's a Bible study out there somewhere tailored specifically for a nerdy-dreamy-universalist-liberal?

Everyone had rotting carpet and a door to pay for.

A few nights ago I had the happiest dream. In the dream I befriended a garden gnome and his fawn friend. We always communicated non-verbally. Last night I was cleaning up my desk and came across this photo of the gnome and fawn from my dream:


I had printed it off the computer in 2008, tucked it into an album and forgotten about it. Now it's framed and every time I see it I can't help but smile.

Yesterday morning I woke up and decided to drive one hundred miles in a blizzard. I don't think I'll be doing that again any time soon.


And this morning I woke up with a song in my head that just won't go away. I'm not complaining; it's a good song.



I've been reading Miranda July's No one belongs here more than you. Loving it so much. Very hard to ration. I could stay up all night quoting my favorite parts, but I'll just leave you with this one:

...Theresa was sitting on the floor next to a chair. This is always a bad sign. It's a slippery slope, and it's best to just sit in chairs, to eat when hungry, to sleep and rise and work. But we have all been there. Chairs are for people, and you're not sure if you are one...

I've had the biggest non-sexual crush on Ms. July since I was eighteen and stumbled upon Learning to Love You More. Best diy collaboration ever. Then it was Me and You and Everyone We Know, with my favorite intro of all time.



And then I discovered the website for her book, which (even if you have no appreciation for artsy fartsy performances and are not mesmerized by the magic of ordinary life) you might think is pretty neat. I do. Obviously.

If I ever get around to hosting a celebrity dinner party the following people will certainly get invitations: Jorge Garcia & Sidekick 22, Miranda July, all the members of Le Tigre (don't remind me that they are no longer a band), Devendra Banhart, Beth Ditto, Aaron Weiss, and Natasha Khan. Lovely weird lovelies.

Enough rambling about famous people that I admire.
Do you know what I miss?
MySpace.
MySpace in the days when you were only allowed eight photos and one profile song.
Now a confession:
I created a MySpace account in hopes of getting Marvin to fall in love with me. We hadn't exchanged phone numbers after our first encounter because he was in the process of getting out of a crappy relationship and I was in a perpetual state of trying to convince myself that I hated men. The MySpace account was Rachel's brilliant idea. Possibly her only brilliant idea of the past decade! (AHAHAHA. Juuuust kidding Rachel. I know you're reading this and both grumbling and laughing about it and you should know that a) I love you and b) right now I'm glad that you're in Egypt and unable to punch me in the boob. I know you wish you could.)
But yeah. Primitive MySpace days...you ruled.

I think I've over-blogged.

Crap.

Coyote.

I got up in the middle of the night for a trip to the ladies' room and happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I was washing my hands. What a sight. I laughed so hard at my reflection that I couldn't not take a picture.

Puffy, grouchy, crazy haired, lazy eyed, sleep masked wonder in a gas station t-shirt. Marvin is one lucky man.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAUREN MATLOCK!

I'm really sorry that lunch was disgusting and that the pottery place was closed and that you didn't find anything at the flea market and that your dog likes to eat kitty litter and poop on the floor. What do you want to bet that there will be either a crying baby or an old man with a hacking cough at the movie tonight...just to make your Crappy Birthday complete. Here's to hoping that the other days of your twenty-third year will be phenomenal in comparison to this hilariously crummy one. I luh you!